


A Bird in the Hand

by barbitone



Series: Captive Prince Fanfiction [10]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ancel is an ass, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, POV Ancel (Captive Prince), Romance, and a conartist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone
Summary: After an untimely break-up Ancel finds himself with no home, no income, and no prospects. But if there’s anything he’s good at by now, it’s finding a promising mark and wrapping them around his finger.His latest mark- Berenger- is a bit more square than what Ancel usually goes for, but he’s young and handsome and most importantly- filthy rich. When he proves more resistant to Ancel’s charms than most, Ancel cuts his losses. He thinks his acquaintance with Berenger is over, but it’s just beginning.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A bird in the hand (is worth two in the bush)
> 
> Big thank you to [sinnysin-sin](https://sinnysin-sin.tumblr.com/) for betaing!!! <3 <3 <3

* * *

“What do you mean it’s-“ Ancel cut himself off sharply, looking around the nearly empty terrace. He lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning towards his current- soon to be ex- boyfriend. Sugar daddy. Lover.

Lover was the most dignified word for it, probably.

“What do you mean it’s _ over.” _

Droet shrugged. “Do I have to spell it out? You know how this works better than anyone, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart,” Ancel spit out, barely restraining himself from throwing his drink in Droet’s face. It was very fine champagne. He took a deep swig instead, trying to breathe through the anger. “You’re my ride home. You’re my-“ _ home, _he didn’t say. 

He didn’t have a home.

He was staying in Droet’s hotel room. All his things were there- what few things he had. Most were gifts from Droet himself, useless lingerie and fancy high-heeled boots, silk shirts and tight leather trousers. His fur coat- his beautiful fur coat that had been a gift from a previous lover- was hanging in Droet’s hotel wardrobe.

The jewelry, at least, was safely on his person. What he wasn’t wearing was hidden away in his pockets. He could weather the immediate fallout of this unceremonious break up quite easily, but his future was suddenly uncertain.

“You’ll find your way,” Droet said dismissively. “You always do. It’s been fun.”

He breezed away and Ancel glared at him, downing the champagne before throwing his glass off the terrace balcony. It shattered with a satisfying crash on the cobblestone path below.

Fuck Droet.

Ancel would be fine, like he always was. He took a few slow steadying breaths and closed his eyes, centering himself. This was for the best, anyway. Droet was low-hanging fruit. And now he was alone at an exclusive charity gala for something or other. Unfortunate orphans somewhere foul, probably.

It didn’t matter. These were ripe hunting grounds and Ancel was an apex predator.

He slipped off to the bathroom and freshened his makeup and fixed his hair, dabbed perfume on his neck and on his wrists. He stared at himself in the mirror and opened a few buttons of his shirt, rolled up his sleeves. For lack of blush he pinched his cheeks a few times and then he was back in the ballroom, surveying the field with fresh eyes.

He took a slow unobtrusive circuit of the room, plucking another glass of champagne off the tray of a passing server.

There were so many finely dressed lonely men, but Ancel’s gaze caught on an interesting sight in the corner of the room. There was a man holding a tumbler of whiskey, surrounded by four guests. The man was dressed plainly, though his suit was designer and custom tailored to his trim frame. He was clean-shaven and handsome. He was wearing diamond cufflinks.

There was thinly veiled panic in his eyes as he nodded along with whatever his conversational partners were saying.

Ancel let his smirk widen as he stalked closer.

“Here you are, darling,” he purred, slotting himself against the stranger’s side.

Before the man could react Ancel turned to his companions, shoving his hand out in greeting.

“Ancel,” he introduced himself, greeting each of the men in turn. They seemed perplexed but Ancel only smiled wider as he made small talk.

“Berenger,” one of the men said, clearly directing the name to Ancel’s mark. “You dark horse. I didn’t think you had it in you to pin down such a catch.” He ran his eyes lustfully down Ancel’s body and Ancel pressed closer to the plain man, Berenger. “He’s the prettiest thing in the room.”

“People can surprise you,” Ancel murmured flirtatiously. “Now if you don’t mind, I think we’d like a minute alone?”

He made sure to bat his eyelashes so there’d be no doubts about what it was they were about to do.

“Of course,” another of the strangers said with a laugh before leading his friends away.

Berenger relaxed, slightly, against him. He didn’t protest as Ancel took his hand and led him over to the bar, setting his empty champagne glass on the cold marble and waving at a bartender.

Most of all he just wanted a goddamn beer- but beer wasn't dignified. Beer wasn’t classy. The next best thing was a shot of vodka, but that wasn’t classy either. He ordered a dirty martini and took a small sip, hiding his grimace as he pretended to enjoy it. Vodka wasn’t meant to be sipped. Vodka was meant to get you plastered.

He ordered a drink for Berenger too- a top shelf whiskey, neat.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a smug smile, staring at the man next to him.

“Am I,” Berenger said flatly.

“I rescued you from the vultures,” Ancel said, leaning back against the bar and angling his body for best effect. He struck a pose meant to strain his shirt buttons and highlight the long lines of his neck, his arms, his legs. Berenger didn’t seem particularly affected but Ancel would find his buttons soon enough and push them with a vengeance.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the men from before watching, whispering to each other.

“Kiss me,” Ancel said boldly.

“What?” Berenger asked, vaguely affronted.

“Kiss me,” Ancel said, lowering his voice. “They’re watching. They won’t believe I’m yours if they don’t see it for themselves.”

Berenger hesitated, moving to turn to see-

Ancel set a hand over Berenger’s clean-shaven cheek, turning his face back and leaning closer. His eyes dropped to Berenger’s lips, soft and inviting. He caressed Berenger’s cheekbone with his thumb appreciatively.

He really was rather handsome. And young- or at least youngish. Only a decade older than Ancel, at most. Certainly younger than most of the men Ancel took an interest in, or vice versa. 

For a long trembling moment he thought Berenger might refuse- but then he leaned in and brushed their lips together.

It was over as soon as it started. When Berenger pulled away Ancel slid his hand to the back of his neck, digging his perfectly manicured nails in sharply.

“Like you mean it,” he whispered.

He’d been expecting a frown, a flinch, anger. He wasn’t expecting the way Berenger stepped forward and set his hands on the bar to either side of him, caging him in. He didn’t expect Berenger leaning down to kiss him again, sensual and slow and passionate. He certainly wasn’t expecting Berenger’s tongue in his mouth, or how good it would feel.

Ancel bit back a moan, melting into Berenger’s touch even as he felt one of Berenger’s arms wrapping around his waist and dragging him closer until they were pressed together. Berenger was warm and strong, his short hair so soft against Ancel’s fingers when he raised his hands to cradle the back of his head.

When Berenger pulled away it left Ancel dizzy and reeling, fighting to catch his breath.

“Are they still watching?” Berenger asked, perfectly composed.

Ancel blinked, trying to center himself, and then he finally understood Berenger’s question. He glanced over Berenger’s shoulder into the main room and shook his head with a small smile. “No. They’re- no.”

“Thank you,” Berenger said.

“For the kiss?” Ancel asked, brushing his hands through his hair before taking another sip of his drink.

“For the rescue, earlier. That was…”

“Charming?” Ancel asked, smiling.

“Useful.”

“I see,” Ancel said, his heart falling even as he tried not to let it show. They’d kissed. Ancel usually had men falling over themselves for him by now. But Berenger was just looking at him, cool and vaguely uncomfortable.

“Let’s see what other useful things I can do for you, shall we?” Ancel asked flippantly.

“That’s not necessary.”

Ancel looked him up and down, assessing and calculating. “A man like you- you didn’t come here for fun.” It was obvious now. The serious suit, the serious drink. Serious, serious, serious- that was Berenger. He wouldn’t be at this party unless his life depended on it. “Tell me,” Ancel pushed. “What are you here for? Really? I’ll make it happen for you.”

“Why?” Berenger asked suspiciously.

_ Because I want you, _Ancel might have said to any other man. But Berenger was different, as he was coming to realize.

“I like your cufflinks,” he said instead. “You’ll give them to me, once I get you what you want.”

Berenger seemed a little surprised, though he hid it well.

“Well?” Ancel asked, raising an eyebrow. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Herode,” Berenger said, the name rolling off his tongue. “I need to speak to him about a business proposition.”

“He’s right there,” Ancel said, glancing pointedly. “Shall we go over?”

“I need to speak to him alone, without anyone seeing. Just a few minutes…”

“Leave it to me,” Ancel said, pressing a kiss to Berenger’s cheek.

He slipped off into the crowd and found himself talking with a few rich entrepreneurs. They hung onto his every word, practically slobbering over him. It was gratifying after Berenger’s cool disinterest. At least these men had taste. And eyes.

Ancel made sure to laugh brightly, to flirt and tease. Everyone was looking at him. The attention was heady. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Berenger approaching Herode.

Ancel didn’t particularly enjoy performing party tricks, but he did whatever the moment called for. He needed a burst of awe, he needed every eye on him. He took the champagne glass out of the hands of one of the entrepreneurs and drained it, then his own. Another man’s was empty already and Ancel took that too, to the laughter of those around him.

He winked before tossing them up into the air, juggling them easily.

“Toss me another,” he said with a cheeky grin.

Someone tossed him another. He was drunk and his aim was poor, but Ancel salvaged the throw and added the fourth glass to the rotation.

“Another!” he laughed.

A slightly more sober man tossed him another. Glasses flashed through the air. Someone was clapping. A server was looking on in horror. Across the room Berenger had finished his conversation with Herode.

Ancel tossed the glasses up one last time, doing a little twirl before expertly catching all five and bowing with a flourish to the cheers of his captive audience.

A server walked up with a tray, snatching the glasses out of Ancel’s hands with a frown.

“Ancel,” Berenger said, at his side once more.

“Impressed?” Ancel asked, quirking up his eyebrow. He knew what he looked like- flushed and panting, his hair mussed. He smiled his most endearing smile, cheerful and open rather than sly and lustful. Berenger’s eyes, briefly, flickered to Ancel’s lips. It felt like victory.

It felt even more like victory when Berenger raised his right hand up to his left wrist and took off one of his diamond cufflinks. He moved slowly, with purpose, as he took off the second too.

Ancel hardly dared to breathe as Berenger simply handed them over.

“What’s next?” Ancel asked, slipping the cufflinks into his pocket.

“I’m afraid I’m out of diamonds,” Berenger said.

Ancel laughed and pressed closer, taking Berenger by the tie and running his thumb over the fine silk. “The next one’s on me,” he said flirtatiously.

Berenger pursed his lips in disapproval but his gaze flitted towards Vannes, the CEO of an oil conglomerate.

They walked over together and Ancel charmed the woman hanging off Vannes’ arm while Berenger spoke to the CEO herself. There was someone else afterwards. Berenger finished his whiskey and Ancel fetched him another. He charmed everyone Berenger needed charming.

He put forward his best game, and still Berenger showed no signs of being interested in him. At first it had seemed like a fun challenge, but as the night wore on it was just annoying.

Maybe Ancel wasn’t Berenger’s type. Except that was ridiculous. He was everyone’s type.

The evening grew later, inching inexorably towards midnight. Finally Ancel decided he’d had enough. If Berenger wasn’t going to seal the deal, Ancel would have to simply move on.

“I’m going to go powder my nose, darling,” he said, wrapping his arms around Berenger’s neck and pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“I’ll do my best,” Berenger said, still in that dry even tone.

It was infuriating. Ancel wanted to mess up his perfect composure, wanted him to remember this night for the rest of his stupid boring life. He pushed Berenger up against a wall and kissed him with all the passion he could muster, which was quite a lot. Berenger seemed a little surprised and then he was holding Ancel’s waist and kissing him back.

Ancel ran his hands down Berenger’s body, moaning into the kiss as he stole Berenger’s wallet.

“Ciao,” he said with a wink after pulling back, glorying in the faint flush that had risen to Berenger’s cheeks.

Ancel went to the bathroom, where he climbed out the window and slipped away.

The gala had been at the museum of modern art, the bathroom facing the extensive gardens. There were couples strolling along the paths, looking at the twisted statues adorning them like they knew what the hell any of it was supposed to mean.

Pretentious assholes.

At least he didn’t have to go far to find a nice hotel.

He breezed through the lobby like he belonged there and went to the hotel bar, taking a seat as he surreptitiously surveyed his surroundings. It was slim pickings, even for a hotel this nice.

It was eleven forty-five, he’d wasted too much time at the gala. He couldn’t pull his usual scam to get a free room, not until checkout tomorrow. He couldn’t pull his _ other _usual either. If there had been some lonely businessman here in want of company for the night, he’d already found it and left.

Ancel ordered a beer and pulled out Berenger’s wallet, looking through it slowly. It was pretty standard- credit cards, a driver’s license with a fancy address, a library card. Ancel laughed a little at that. Who had a _ library card _these days? Why bother with the library when Berenger could clearly afford to buy whatever he wanted?

There was cash, too. A lot of it. A few crisp hundreds and some smaller bills, nearly a thousand dollars in all.

Ancel’s beer arrived and he took a slow sip, contemplating his options. He couldn’t use Berenger’s credit cards to get a room, that was too obviously traceable. The last thing he needed was the police showing up to interrupt his beauty sleep. It seemed a shame to spend the cash so soon. He could find a cheaper hotel, maybe. Tomorrow he’d sell some of his jewelry and figure out what to do next.

He left a few bills on the bar before standing and walking back into the lobby.

Fuck it. He could afford to splurge a little after the horrible evening he’d been through.

He paid for a room- _ him! paying! _it was practically unthinkable- and went upstairs. The room was nice. Not as nice as Droet’s had been.

Ancel let himself mourn the loss of his fur coat, then got another beer out of the minibar and ran himself a hot bath. At least tomorrow was a new day.

* * *

In the morning Ancel got dressed in his clothes from last night- incidentally, the only clothes he currently owned- and walked a few blocks to a different hotel. He stopped at a small shop to buy coffee and a pair of sunglasses with one of Berenger’s credit cards.

He’d been expecting it to be declined- Berenger struck him as the sort of man who’d notice his wallet missing and immediately put his cards on hold- but the transaction went through. That was curious. Ancel couldn’t help grinning at the prospect of a shopping spree.

He found an unobtrusive corner in the hotel lobby, sipping his coffee and pretending to be busy on his phone as he kept his eyes and ears open, watching the front desk. There was a steady steam of checkouts and Ancel waited for nearly twenty minutes before he managed to catch both a name and a room number, and then waited twenty minutes more before striding up to the front desk, affecting a harried expression as he pretended to end a phone call.

“Excuse me,” he said, careful to speak to the clerk his mark hadn’t spoken to. “My plans have changed unexpectedly and I need to extend my stay- is there any way my room is still available? I was in room five thirty-two.”

“Certainly,” the clerk said with an easy smile. “Could I get your name, sir?”

“Louans,” Ancel said confidently.

She tapped away on her computer before looking up with a nod. “Would you care to use a different card to hold the room?”

“The one on file will be fine.”

And just like that she was handing over a set of keys and Ancel slipped them into his pocket with a grin. He thanked her and took himself out for breakfast, then spent the whole day shopping on Berenger’s dime before having dinner at a charming little gastropub that served crab puffs topped with gold leaf and black caviar at thirty dollars a pop.

He returned to the hotel flush with happiness and went to bed in a pair of brand new silk pajamas, sipping beer as he watched some stupid show on T.V.

The next day was just as lovely as the one before. Ancel sold off some jewelry and put the money in his nearly empty bank account. He shopped, he ate. He went to a club that night and made out with a handsome man in a mesh tanktop, moving on when someone wearing a rolex caught his eye.

He gave out his number and flirted, making friends and connections. Looking for his next mark. Or, not _ mark, _exactly.

Lover was the most dignified word for it, probably.

He had a few leads, and more importantly- he was having _ fun _for once.

Two weeks passed, and every time he expected Berenger’s card to get declined, it simply went through. What was the limit, anyway? What the hell was wrong with Berenger that he was allowing it?

He must have noticed the suspicious activity by now. Why hadn’t he frozen the card?

Ancel tried looking him up online but there was nothing. He was a ghost- one of those rich men who stayed in the shadows instead of flaunting their wealth. That was intriguing. Ancel was used to men like Droet, who liked to show off.

Ancel never used the cards in the same place twice. He flitted about the city like a butterfly, making sure his hotel rooms were booked under someone else’s name.

He’d just finished brunch when it finally happened. The waitress came back with an apologetic wince and returned Berenger’s credit card.

“I’m afraid it’s been declined, sir.”

Ancel sighed. So that was that. It had been fun while it lasted.

“I’ll pay with cash, then,” he said, reaching into his pocket.

“It’s on me,” said a familiar voice.

Ancel froze as Berenger stepped up beside him and handed the woman a credit card. She took it, glancing between the two of them uncertainly before scurrying away.

Berenger sat down in the chair across from Ancel, looking at him with something cool and guarded in his eyes.

This was less than ideal.

But it wasn’t the police. And Berenger had just paid for brunch. Ancel chose to take this as a tentatively good thing, leaning back in his chair and running his hand through his hair with a smirk.

“Did you miss me after all, then?” he asked playfully.

“Not exactly,” Berenger said.

Ancel raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting as Berenger’s gaze slipped away, off to the side. His shoulders were tense. If anything, he was the one that seemed nervous.

“I’m not entirely certain how to… do this,” he said slowly.

“Do what?” Ancel asked. “Confront a thief? I think most people just call the police.”

“I want to hire you,” Berenger said.

Ancel could only blink at him in shock.

“I meant to ask you at the gala,” Berenger said awkwardly. “But then you disappeared. I’ve been looking for you since then. I wanted to-” he broke off and made a little grimace.

“That’s why you didn’t freeze your cards,” Ancel said. His heart was hammering in his chest. This was unexpected, to say the least. A pleasant surprise, for once.

“Yes,” Berenger said, looking back at him at last. His eyes were brown and warm, and Ancel could see flecks of gold in them. “At the gala- you helped me a great deal. More than you probably realize. I’m not good with-” Another grimace. Berenger waved his hand vaguely. “All- _ that. _Networking. People. But you- you’re really-”

“I’m the best,” Ancel said. He was giddy with excitement.

“Yes,” Berenger said, very quietly. “I have a business trip coming up, and I’d like to have you with me. It’s two months. There will be a lot of travel. A lot of parties and galas and all sorts of things that I’m terrible at.”

Did the wonders never cease? Here was everything Ancel wanted, just dropped into his lap like an exquisite gift.

“I’ll need new clothes,” Ancel said. “And jewelry. Room and board, of course.”

“Of course,” Berenger said. His shoulders relaxed a little and Ancel wasn’t sure but he thought he might have been smiling. “Anything else?”

“Two months is a long time to be at someone’s beck and call,” Ancel said slowly. “I’ll need… additional compensation.” He thought of a number. He thought of Berenger giving away a pair of diamond cufflinks like it was nothing. Ancel doubled the number. He doubled it again.

When he said it out loud Berenger didn’t even flinch, just reached into his jacket and pulled out a check book.

“I presume half now and half at the end is agreeable?”

“Yes,” Ancel said. This was too good to be true, wasn’t it? But he watched as Berenger started writing the check.

“What name shall I make it out to?”

“Cash,” Ancel said.

Now he was sure- Berenger was smiling. He ripped out the check and handed it over. Ancel took it, feeling like he was floating. There were a lot of zeroes.

“This is real,” Ancel said, stunned. “You- you’re for real.”

“Yes,” Berenger said, standing. “We leave in one week. Feel free to move into my apartment at your convenience. The doorman knows to expect you. Would you like me to send my driver? I imagine you’ll need help packing all your recent purchases.”

“I-” Ancel managed. “I- no. I- I can take care of it.”

The waitress came back with the check, handing it to Berenger to sign. Berenger did, leaving a generous tip, then held the card out for Ancel to take.

“In case you run into any other expenses along the way,” Berenger said and left the cafe.

Ancel and the waitress stared after him.

“Your boyfriend’s cute,” she said.

“My lover,” Ancel corrected. 

That was the most dignified word for it. Probably.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing art is by skaiahart! Check her out on [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/skaiah) [Tumblr](https://skaiahart.tumblr.com/) [Twitter](https://twitter.com/skaiahart)

* * *

Ancel deposited Berenger’s check in his bank account and got his passport out of his safety deposit box. He packed up his things at the hotel and got a bellboy to help him load his bags into a cab. He still had Berenger’s wallet and his driver’s license, so he rattled off the address to the cab driver and looked out the window for the rest of the ride, his heart pounding with excitement and anxiety.

He couldn’t quite believe this was happening, that he was doing this. He wasn’t entirely sure what particular breed of crazy Berenger was, but somehow Ancel had a good feeling about him. About this whole thing in general.

He’d known a lot of rich men, the awkward ones were always his favorite. Slow to warm up, in need of some hand-holding, but in the end the most rewarding. They were loads better than the arrogant assholes who whipped out the cuffs on the first date and thought their jackhammer fucking style was god’s gift to the world.

And Berenger was handsome, and young. Youngish. And rich.

The cab pulled up to a swanky apartment building and Ancel stepped out to be greeted by a doorman.

“Ancel?” he asked. “Mr. Berenger’s guest?”

“Yes,” Ancel said, beaming as the doorman signaled to someone inside the building and three men walked out to grab Ancel’s bags.

Ancel tipped the cab driver and followed the doorman into the building, and an elevator. There was some special panel where the doorman inserted a key and then they were headed upwards. To the _ penthouse. _

The elevator doors opened on an airy sunlit living room, tastefully appointed in a modern style. One wall was floor-to-ceiling windows with a glass door leading out to a terrace balcony.

“Mr. Berenger mentioned you’d be in the spare bedroom,” the doorman said. “This way.”

Ancel hardly paid attention to the men carrying his bags, overwhelmed by the signs of wealth all around him.

“If you need anything, please feel free to call down to the front desk,” the doorman said before leaving.

_ “Oh my god,” _Ancel whispered as he looked around the spare bedroom, his bedroom. The bed was massive, made up with fine satin sheets. There was a walk-in closet with built-in shelves and Ancel took the time to unpack all his things, arranging them carefully. That done, he explored the rest of the apartment.

The kitchen was spotless, though clearly saw some use. The fridge was stocked with groceries and there was a bowl of fruit on the counter, a wine rack mounted to the wall. The living room was equipped with the latest electronics, the wall surrounding the T.V. was all bookshelves filled with leather-bound books and elegant knick-knacks. Ancel browsed through them idly but nothing caught his attention.

Next he went to Berenger’s bedroom. If there was anything he needed to worry about, Ancel would find it here. 

He started, as he usually did, with the closet. Berenger had six copies of the same hideous brown jacket which Ancel wrinkled his nose at. The rest of his clothes were finely made but plain- white shirts, black pants, a few pairs of dark jeans. His socks were all the same brand and style- all black. His underwear too- all black boxer briefs folded into neat little squares.

Berenger was the type to fold his underwear. Ancel laughed a little, wondering if he did it himself or if he used a laundry service.

It was with some trepidation that he looked through Berenger’s nightstands. Library books, cufflinks, an alarm clock. There were condoms and lube in the drawer. But other than that- no sex toys or cuffs or clamps, nothing weird or troubling. Ancel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He’d done the kink thing- a lot of his lovers had expected it, given his background- and found it exhausting. Spanking grown men while calling them little sluts didn’t exactly do it for him. That was still better than the ones who preferred it the other way around- Ancel bruised like a peach and he liked being able to sit without pain, thank you.

The platform bed had drawers set into the base, but they were filled with fresh sheets and more books. How many books did one man need? It was ridiculous.

One of the books caught Ancel’s eye, the spine more worn than any of the others. He opened it and giggled as it fell open easily, as though someone visited these particular passages quite often. It was a sex scene between two men- a detective and a thief- in an elevator. It was cheesy and emotional, completely ridiculous.

_ “We shouldn’t be doing this,” _the detective said.

_ “I can’t stay away from you,” _ the thief said, _ “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” _

Ancel shut the book and put it back, grinning. Alright then.

He knew exactly how to play this. The next two months were going to be a breeze.

He took a leisurely bath and called down to the front desk to order dinner. As he ate he imagined what it would be like- what Berenger would be like. He was a good kisser, so that was promising. He’d probably be slow and steady in the bedroom, thorough.

Ancel would have to play it carefully, not too enthusiastic, not too open. He’d have to pretend to be surprised at how good it was, pretend to be a little shy.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he whispered experimentally.

No, that was too obvious. 

“It’s never been like this,” he tried instead. That was better.

It was getting late as Ancel dropped his dirty dishes into the dishwasher and went back to his closet, choosing an outfit for tonight. None of it seemed quite right, though. He went back to Berenger’s bedroom and put on one of his white shirts, and nothing else. Grabbing a book off Berenger’s shelf- some sort of boring love poetry- Ancel settled on his bed to wait.

For lack of anything better to do he read the poetry. It was torturous. Did Berenger really like this crap?

Finally, a few minutes after nine, Ancel heard the front door open. Quickly he mussed his hair and posed more sensually on the bed, making sure his long legs were on full display. He held the book a little closer, pretending to read.

When the bedroom door finally opened Ancel pretended to startle, looking up wide-eyed. He knew the picture he made- firey-haired youth in a plain white shirt, soft in the lamp light and practically begging to be debauched.

Berenger stopped short in the doorway, his lips parting around an inaudible gasp, and Ancel held back a smirk.

_ Bullseye. _

“Ancel,” Berenger said, his voice coming out a little strangled.

“Sorry,” Ancel said, shutting the book and rising from the bed, making sure to flash some thigh while not giving away too much, not yet. “I’m sorry, I got bored waiting for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

He set the book on the nightstand and padded closer, looking up at Berenger through his eyelashes.

“No, it’s- it’s fine,” Berenger said. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“I wanted to be here,” Ancel said, sliding his hands up Berenger’s chest. “With you,” he added, low and suggestive.

Berenger frowned, his eyes shuttering. “Ancel,” he said, voice dripping with disapproval.

Ancel dropped his hands to his sides, not sure where he’d gone wrong. He hadn’t made a mistake, he was sure of it. This was what Berenger wanted- a young man in a plain shirt, reading stupid poetry and waiting to welcome him home. Ancel kept his breathing even, his expression vaguely puzzled. Maybe he could still salvage this somehow.

“You don’t have to do this,” Berenger said.

“I want to,” Ancel said, as earnestly as he could.

“No, you don’t,” Berenger said. “You’re not here because you want to be.”

“It’s different with you,” Ancel said. He’d forgotten the frustration from the gala and now he remembered with a vengeance.

“It isn’t.”

“You can’t be serious,” Ancel said, dropping the act at last. “You’re really not going to fuck me?”

“I don’t want-”

“You do,” Ancel insisted. They’d _ kissed. _And he’d seen the look in Berenger’s eyes when he’d first come into the room.

“Not like this,” Berenger said, whatever that was supposed to mean.

“Are you a virgin or something? I’ll go easy on you.”

Berenger laughed a little, and still made no move to close the distance between them. “I’m not a virgin. You don’t have to put on the act in private. You don’t have to lie to me.”

“So I’m just supposed to be _ celibate _for two months?” Ancel demanded, throwing his hands up. It was insane. Berenger was insane. If it wasn’t for the money already sitting in his bank account and the promise of more, he might have left Berenger to his weird ideas and gone on to find someone who made sense.

“If you wish to- take a lover,” Berenger said carefully, “all I ask is that you’re discreet.”

“You’re an idiot,” Ancel said, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to bed. And you’re going to take me shopping before we leave.”

“I think we both know you’re perfectly capable of shopping on your own.”

“Not for me, for you,” Ancel said. “How exactly do you intend to spend a two month trip in just white shirts and black pants? You need a gray suit, at least. A blazer and a few fashionable shirts, maybe a hat. Shoes, for sure. Underwear that isn’t all black.”

“You looked through my underwear?” Berenger asked, vaguely affronted.

“Yes, obviously. I had to make sure you weren’t keeping locks of hair from your murdered victims in there.”

“I keep those in the safe behind the painting in the kitchen.”

“Ha ha,” Ancel said dryly. He’d checked behind all the paintings earlier. “I’m so looking forward to two months of your sparkling wit.”

“I could say the same,” Berenger said. For some reason Ancel thought he might have meant it. Berenger was looking at him with something fond in his eyes, and suddenly Ancel was acutely aware of being naked under the shirt.

And of being turned away.

“Good night, then,” he said. He left before Berenger had a chance to say it back.

* * *

Ancel demanded the trip itinerary so he could plan their wardrobes. He went to a spa for a full day of pampering and got a massage and a haircut while he was at it. Berenger was late coming home again so Ancel ate without him and was already asleep by the time he returned.

In the morning he threw a silk robe on over a white lace teddy and breezed into Berenger’s room. It was empty, but he heard running water through the open bathroom door.

“We need to talk,” he said as he walked in.

Berenger was shaving over the sink, naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist.

_ “Ancel,” _he said sharply, flinching. “You can’t just-”

Ancel scoffed, closing the toilet lid and sitting down on it. He brought one knee up to his chest and wrapped his arms around it, staring openly at Berenger’s bare chest. “Don’t leave the door open, then.”

Berenger was surprisingly fit under his plain clothes, lean and strong. His skin was still damp from the shower and it was with great effort that Ancel dragged his gaze upwards to meet Berenger’s.

“As I said, we need to talk. About our shopping trip. When can you go?”

Apparently resigned to the fact that this was happening, Berenger turned back to the mirror and resumed shaving with slow even strokes.

“I can take a long lunch tomorrow.”

“A long- _ lunch?” _Ancel asked incredulously. “Is this a joke to you? It’s going to take at least all day.”

“I can’t just disappear for a day.”

“Can’t you?”

Berenger finished up and rinsed his razor, then his face. “No, I really can’t. We’ll have to skip it.”

“I don’t think so,” Ancel said, standing. “Put on some underwear- _ nothing else, _I’m serious- and I’ll be right back.”

He went back to his own room to fetch his measuring tape and returned to see Berenger standing in the middle of his bedroom uncertainly. He was wearing a pair of black boxer briefs and nothing else. It wasn’t an unpleasant sight.

“Arms out,” Ancel said and could only hope he wasn’t blushing. “I’ll take your measurements and order some things for you. We’ll see what needs to be tailored and take care of that after.”

“This really isn’t necessary,” Berenger said, but obediently held out his arms so Ancel could measure him.

“It really is,” Ancel said. “How exactly do you expect to fit in with the french with your current wardrobe? And in Greece? You’ll boil alive in your own sweat and then I won’t get the rest of my money. Now stay still.”

He measured Berenger’s shoulders, his waist, his chest. If he let his fingers linger a little over smooth warm skin, Berenger didn’t seem to mind. He felt good. He smelled good too, fresh and clean with a hint of cologne.

Ancel sank to his knees to measure his inseam, running the tape teasingly close to his groin as Berenger pointedly didn’t look at him.

“There, all done,” Ancel said afterwards. “Unless you’d like me to stay on my knees for something else…?”

“I’m going to be late,” Berenger said, taking a nervous step backwards.

Ancel laughed as he rose. “Can’t have that,” he said before leaving.

He shopped for clothes and had Berenger try them on that evening, discarding the things he didn’t like and focusing on what he did, marking the garments for alterations.

“It’s a good start,” he said at last. It was nearly midnight. He’d spent hours looking at Berenger, touching him. Adjusting his clothing and maneuvering his body. Ancel felt- strange. Too hot, like there was an itch just under his skin.

“A good start,” Berenger repeated, a little flushed. “You mean there’ll be more of this?”

“Later,” Ancel said. “Once we’re in France. I have to get all this to the tailor tomorrow so we can have it back by the time we need to pack. Why, do you think there’s anything else you’ll need?”

Berenger’s lips quirked up in a smile. “It’s barely been three days, and I think you already know what I need better than I do.”

“Sleep then,” Ancel said, oddly giddy. “Maybe we’ll have breakfast together tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Berenger said with a nod, and made his retreat.

* * *

Ancel was still yawning as he made his way out of his bedroom, following the smell of bacon and eggs.

Berenger was at the stove, dressed in his customary white shirt black pants combo with a plain black apron over it as he cooked. His shirtsleeves were rolled back to his elbows, revealing his forearms.

“I hear it’s healthier to eat fruit for breakfast,” Ancel murmured, seating himself at the kitchen counter.

“So they say,” Berenger said idly. “Coffee?”

“God yes,” Ancel moaned.

Berenger poured him a cup and Ancel loaded it up with sugar, stirring slowly. “So,” he said conversationally. “What's wrong with you?”

“... Excuse me?” Berenger asked without turning around.

“What's wrong with you?” Ancel repeated, slower. “You're not entirely bad looking. You're rich, and you can cook. You could find a cute young thing to hang off your arm easily enough.”

Berenger distributed their breakfast over two plates before bringing them over and sitting beside him. “I find it difficult to tell which ones are just after my money.”

Ancel laughed. “So you picked _ me?” _

“You're honest about it,” Berenger said with a small smile. “I like that.”

“Honesty is overrated.”

No one wanted honesty, not really. Ancel made a living off molding himself into other men’s fantasies, so he knew that better than most.

“Not to me.”

Ancel ate a forkful of eggs, not dignifying that ridiculous statement with a response. “Don’t be late tonight,” he said. “We’re going out for dinner.”

“Are we,” Berenger said with a wry smile.

“It’ll be suspicious if you have a lover appear out of nowhere on your business trip,” Ancel said, rolling his eyes. “We should be seen together ahead of time. I’ll pick your outfit, so be home by six.”

By the time Berenger was back Ancel was ready and had an outfit picked out for him- the gray suit with a bright blue pocket square, and a pair of tan leather boots. They went to an exclusive restaurant where Ancel made a point of touching Berenger flirtatiously as much as possible, getting more handsy as the night wore on.

He’d selected the restaurant carefully and noticed a few familiar faces amongst the other diners- they’d been guests at the gala. He noticed them noticing him and Berenger, though he didn’t show it. 

_ Mission accomplished, _he thought victoriously as he leaned in and kissed Berenger for everyone to see. Berenger had hints of stubble on his cheeks so late into the night and he seemed a little flushed, probably from the wine.

On the way out, Berenger recognized someone he knew and they stopped to chat while Ancel leaned against his side, smiling up at him in what he knew looked like a love-struck manner. Then they were leaving at last and Ancel felt the glow of self-satisfaction after a well-played ruse.

While they waited for Berenger’s driver, Parsins, to bring the car around Ancel shivered and Berenger took off his coat, draping it over his shoulders.

Ancel beamed at him, pleased at how well he was playing along. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

Berenger blinked at him, a little confused, but then the car was pulling up and Ancel climbed inside.

* * *

The day before they were set to leave, they had dinner again. After they returned to the apartment Berenger reached into his coat, pulling out a small black case.

“For you,” he said, handing it over. “A gift. You mentioned you wanted jewelry, but I noticed you haven’t bought any for yourself.”

Ancel took it gleefully, gasping when he opened it. There was an extravagant emerald necklace inside- the most beautiful and ostentatious bit of jewelry he’d ever owned.

“I love it,” he breathed out. “Help me put it on.”

He turned around and moved his hair out of the way while Berenger stepped up behind him, fastening the clasp. Ancel went over to the mirror by the entry, touching the jewels reverently. They were so beautiful. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said, still awed. And then he laughed, looking over at where Berenger had sat down on the couch. “You’re my favorite lover,” he announced. “And I’ve had a few, over the past five years.”

“Five years,” Berenger said thoughtfully. “And what were you doing before then?”

Ancel laughed again before turning back to the mirror to admire his necklace. “You’re joking,” he said. “Did you really not look me up?”

“I just assumed you’d given me a fake name.”

“I didn’t,” Ancel said with a smirk. He’d been going by ‘Ancel’ since he was fourteen, and he’d changed it legally when he’d left home. _ Ancel- _ no last name. Like Cher, or Madonna. “Go on then.”

He waited, watching out of the corner of his eye as Berenger took out his phone and did a quick web search.

“Good god!” Berenger exclaimed before setting the phone down like it had burned him.

Ancel laughed brightly. He knew exactly what Berenger had seen-

The most popular search result was Ancel, at nineteen, dressed up in tight black latex pants and leather straps, smirking at the camera as he knelt on a bed, holding a riding crop. There were others in much the same vein. Ancel was particularly fond of a set where he’d been dressed in gold chains and green silk, blushing as he looked wide-eyed up at the camera.

“I was a model for a while,” he said as he walked over to Berenger, who was still blushing furiously. He was so cute when his feathers were ruffled. Ancel wanted to tease him, rile him up. So he set one knee on the couch, and then the other, settling easily in Berenger’s lap and wrapping his arms around Berenger’s neck.

“Kink stuff, to start,” Ancel said with a playful smile. “Easy to get into, paid well. Never nudes, but it was suggestive enough to cause a bit of a stir. There were other things too. Minor magazines, some emerging designers. I was going to make it big. I was going to be in Vogue.”

“And then you weren’t,” Berenger said softly, setting his hands gingerly on Ancel’s hips. “What happened?”

Ancel grimaced and turned away. The moment was over. He wasn’t having fun anymore.

“Nothing,” he said, standing. It wasn’t exactly untrue. Nothing had happened. He’d been a rising star and then his flame had been snuffed out. It happened to lots of people- most people. It shouldn’t have happened to him, but he’d been young and stupid. He’d probably deserved it.

“Ancel?”

“I’m doing fine for myself now, aren’t I?” Ancel asked easily, turning back to the mirror and stroking the emeralds until he felt a bit steadier. He _ was _steadier. The emeralds were worth a fortune. That and what Berenger was paying him for the upcoming two months, what he’d already paid him- that was stability. That was the beginning of a new life, one he was in control of for once.

He smiled, a real smile. Once this was over, he’d have enough cash to rent an actual apartment. He wouldn’t have to hop from bed to bed. He’d get a small place and start working again. _ Really _working, not just whoring around.

Maybe he’d change his name and emerge free of the taint of his past. Maybe he’d keep it, as a _ fuck you _ to everyone who’d tried to cut him down. He’d design clothes like he’d always wanted and make his mark on the world.

“We should go to bed,” he announced, turning back to Berenger, who was looking at him with a faint frown.

Ancel laughed, bounding over to rain kisses on Berenger’s cheeks, his nose, his forehead. “Tomorrow’s a long day,” he said. “Tomorrow we start our adventure.”


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

The day passed in a whirlwind of travel. There were so many people buzzing around, carrying bags to and fro, loading and unloading. Ancel directed them easily, making sure his and Berenger’s valuables were being handled properly. Ancel had half expected a chartered plane, but he was coming to learn Berenger didn’t make a habit of throwing money around.

Except, it seemed, when it came to the thief he’d met at a gala barely three weeks ago. It made Ancel feel special, priceless like he’d never felt before. His previous lovers had made a point of trying to make him doubt his worth, make him lower his price. But Berenger simply handed over his credit card and looked on calmly while Ancel did whatever he wanted.

They flew first class and drank champagne. When the plane hit turbulence and Berenger went pale Ancel reached out to hold his hand. It was clammy and disgusting, and no one was watching, but for some reason Ancel didn’t let go.

There was another flurry of activity once they landed in Paris. Berenger shot him a surprised but appreciative look when Ancel supervised the loading and unloading of their baggage- in French.

“Les gens peuvent tu surprendre,” Ancel said with a wink.

Ancel had been to Paris before, but only once. He looked out the window of their cab with wonder as they drove through the historic streets, then made their way to an apartment.

Berenger seemed a little disgruntled as he surveyed the space but Ancel was giddy with happiness. Paris! How could anyone be unhappy in Paris?

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Berenger said.

“You’ll _ what?” _ Ancel asked, looking back from the window where he’d been staring at the Eiffel Tower in the distance. 

“There’s only one bed,” Berenger said slowly.

“And?” 

“And I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Why?” Ancel asked, smirking as he walked closer. “Are you afraid I’m going to molest you in your sleep? I promise you, your virtue is safe.”

“If you’re sure it’s alright,” Berenger said uncertainly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ancel said, rolling his eyes, then insisted they go out to dinner.

He’d nearly forgotten about the whole thing by the time they got back that evening and Ancel went yawning to the bedroom. He was exhausted and jet lagged, and he blinked in confusion as Berenger walked in behind him, pulling off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.

“I can help you with that,” Ancel said, watching.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll manage,” Berenger said with a wry smile before heading to the bathroom.

Ancel woke some time later to a dark room. Berenger was asleep beside him, his arm stretched out over the pillows, the back of his hand almost brushing the side of Ancel’s face. 

The light of the streetlights outside spilled into the room to illuminate the bed, warm and dreamlike. Berenger’s breathing was quiet and even, his expression soft and unguarded.

Ancel had never shared a bed with someone without fucking them first. It felt strange not to have those sorts of expectations. It felt safe as much as dangerous. He watched Berenger for a long time, not sure what he was feeling. And then he shifted, slightly, until his cheek was pressed against Berenger’s hand, and went back to sleep.

* * *

Ancel woke feeling warm and well-rested, yawning as he rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty but still warm. He blinked slowly as the sound of running water came into focus.

He didn’t really have to get up- Berenger didn’t need him until the evening. Still, he rose and went to get a small case out of his things before walking into the bathroom.

“Ancel,” Berenger said, trying for indignant and landing on resigned. He’d just finished up his morning shower and was about to get on with his morning shave.

“I have a gift for you,” Ancel said, holding out the case.

“Does it count as a gift if you bought it for me with my own money?” Berenger asked, taking the gift nevertheless. He opened the box to reveal a fine silver straight razor. “Thank you,” he said, clearly surprised.

“Someone like you should be shaving with a straight razor,” Ancel said. “Not a drugstore monstrosity with a million blades and a _ moisture strip.” _

“Someone like me?” Berenger asked.

He clearly didn’t know what to do with the razor so Ancel closed the toilet lid and bid him to sit down, still sleepy as he picked up the shaving cream.

“Classy,” Ancel said, getting the shaving cream ready and smoothing it carefully over the lower half of Berenger’s face. “Old money. You’re probably descended from Lords. You probably have a family crest.”

He opened the razor and tipped Berenger’s chin up to the light, watching as he swallowed heavily. Maybe he was nervous about letting a practical stranger bring a blade to his throat. There was something heady about the way Berenger closed his eyes and let himself be maneuvered, vulnerable and brave at the same time.

“Someone like you,” Ancel murmured softly, “probably makes more in a day just from interest and dividends than someone like me can hope to make in a lifetime.”

Ancel brought the razor down for the first slow rasping stroke, careful as he traced the planes of Berenger’s face.

“Someone like you?” Berenger asked quietly, barely moving his lips.

“A whore.”

Berenger opened his eyes to look at him, his gaze dark and intense. “I don’t think of you that way.”

“I’m not ashamed of what I am,” Ancel said. He made sure to keep his hands steady, turning Berenger’s face to get his other cheek, and then his chin.

“Ancel…” Berenger said.

Ancel ignored him, finishing up silently before wiping the remains of shaving cream away from Berenger’s face with a towel.

“See?” he asked with a small smile, running a finger down Berenger’s now-smooth cheek. “It’s a better shave this way. I can teach you.”

“I liked having you do it,” Berenger said softly.

Ancel smiled wider, shifting into something genuine. “Of course,” he said. It felt good to be useful, to do something for Berenger he couldn’t do for himself. “I’m the best.”

“You are.”

“I’m going back to sleep,” Ancel said, flushing. He left Berenger to finish up his morning routine while he picked out an outfit for him, laying it out over Berenger’s side of the bed before climbing back under the covers. He pretended to be asleep while Berenger dressed so he could peek at him through his eyelashes.

How funny, that the first man he’d found himself wanting in such a long time didn’t want him back.

* * *

Paris was a blast. Most days Ancel spent alone while Berenger was busy with meetings and work. In the evenings they had dinner, or went to parties. Ancel charmed whoever needed charming and gloried in the lustful looks he got, the looks of jealousy that people shot at Berenger.

Everyone wanted Ancel. Even Berenger managed to play along when they were in public- keeping his hand on Ancel’s lower back while they were standing together and shooting dark looks at anyone who was too pushy about flirting with him.

Ancel loved the attention, the fancy parties, the food and wine and best of all- the _ gifts. _

Berenger gave him a pair of diamond earrings, a golden wrist cuff studded with rubies, an ostentatious emerald ring. Soon Ancel had a fortune in jewels hidden away amongst his things.

At night they shared the bed, and although Berenger always made sure to leave careful distance between them, sometimes Ancel woke to find that their sides were touching. Once, he woke to Berenger’s arm around his waist and Berenger’s lips pressed to the back of his neck.

He kept his breathing slow and even, feigning sleep as he carefully moved into the touch. He felt it when Berenger woke and tensed, staying still for a long moment before carefully extricating himself from the embrace. Ancel had to suppress a shiver at the loss of his warmth, pretending to be asleep for a long time after.

After two weeks in Paris they travelled south, where they stayed in a sprawling manor. They had separate bedrooms there and Ancel tried not to be disappointed. The manor had extensive gardens and a pool, so Ancel spent hours by the water, reading fashion magazines and enjoying the weather.

Berenger was less busy than he’d been in the city, so sometimes they had breakfast or lunch together, and dinner every night. There was a vineyard next door that served the best soft cheese along with their wine, and they’d walk there sometimes to have a drink as the sun set. It was nice- peaceful.

Ancel was napping by the pool one beautiful afternoon when he roused to Berenger somewhere close by.

“I’m going out,” Berenger said. “I’ll be back in a few hours for dinner, I trust you’ll be alright on your own?”

There wasn’t anything on the itinerary and Ancel opened his eyes only to inhale sharply at the sight of Berenger standing beside his chaise. Somehow he managed to choke on his own spit and ended up in an undignified coughing fit while Berenger looked on in concern.

“Holy hell,” Ancel sputtered, squinting up at Berenger through watering eyes. He was dressed in black leather pants and heavy boots. He was wearing a tight white tee-shirt and a leather jacket over it, only zipped up part way, and a pair of aviator sunglasses.

“Where the fuck are you going dressed like _ that?” _Ancel demanded. “I didn’t pack that for you.”

“I am perfectly capable of packing some things for myself,” Berenger said with a smile. “And I’m going to the track.”

“The what,” Ancel repeated, dumbfounded. “I’m coming with you.”

He jerked to his feet. Whatever Berenger intended to do at _ the track- _what did that even mean, what track?- Ancel wanted to be there to see it.

“If you like,” Berenger said. “But I think you’ll be quite bored.”

“You’re wearing leather pants,” Ancel said, still a little shell-shocked. “Whatever’s about to happen, I really doubt I’ll be bored.”

He dressed in a hurry, throwing on something stylish but sporty so he wouldn’t look too out of place next to Berenger, wrapped up in leather like something straight out of the sorts of magazines Ancel had modeled for back in the day. The only thing missing was a little leather cap and a whip and-

Ancel really wasn’t about to keep thinking about any of _ that _right now.

He tried not to stare too obviously while Parsins drove them. He looked out the window at the scenery, only taking quick glances at Berenger sitting beside him, doing something on his phone.

When they finally arrived Ancel was surprised to find that they really were at a track- a race track. A tall buff woman met them and grinned as Berenger held out his hand for her to shake. She grabbed it and pulled him in for a rough embrace.

“It’s been too long, Berry!”

“It’s nice to see you too, Halvik,” Berenger said, his voice coming out a little muffled from where his face was pressed against Halvik’s shoulder.

“Did you bring a boy toy?” she asked, letting go of him to leer at Ancel.

“Lover,” Ancel said, raising an eyebrow. When Ancel held his hand out to shake she took it and pressed a kiss to the backs of his knuckles like he was a highborn lady.

“Don’t flirt with me,” Ancel said. “I’ll only break your heart.”

Halvik laughed, patting Berenger hard enough on the back that he stumbled a little.

“He’s got spunk! Good for you, Berry. Take good care of this one.”

She continued chattering easily with Berenger while she led them down through the stands towards five motorcycles lined up in a neat row on the pavement.

“These are the new models,” Halvik said and went on to talk for a very long time about engines and intake valves and exhaust until Ancel’s eyes were glazed over. Berenger, on the other hand, seemed fascinated, nodding along attentively.

“I’ll get the girls while you pick one,” the woman said eventually and turned to go.

Ancel stared as Berenger zipped up his jacket and pulled a set of driving gloves out of his pockets, pulling them on.

Motorcycles.

Who could have thought?

“So this is what you do, then?” Ancel asked. “You make motorcycles?”

“Not quite,” Berenger said. “My company makes engine parts and sells them to major automotive manufacturers.”

“So then, this is…” Ancel said not sure what to make of this whole thing.

“Fun,” Berenger said with a surprisingly boyish grin. “I used to race competitively when I was in University. Did some stunt riding too.”

“You didn’t,” Ancel said. “You- I looked you up. I think I would have known if you were some- some- daredevil. What the hell, Berenger?”

Berenger laughed. “I competed under a fake name so my parents wouldn’t find out.”

“Naughty,” Ancel said, laughing too. “I had no idea you were a bad boy.”

“People can surprise you,” Berenger said, throwing Ancel’s own words back at him. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle?”

“I like being alive, so no. I haven’t.”

There was a helmet resting on the seat of one of the bikes and Berenger picked it up. “Want to go for a ride?”

“I’d ride you all night long, darling,” Ancel said with a smirk. “But I’m not climbing on that stinky death trap even if you paid me.”

“Suit yourself,” Berenger said with a little shrug. “Let Parsins know when you get bored. He’ll drive you home.”

“What makes you think I’ll get bored?” Ancel asked, his heart thundering at the thought of _ home. _ They’d been in France a month now, and it had been nearly two months since they’d met. Somehow, at some point during that time, _ home _had started to feel close again. It felt a bit like Berenger.

Ancel filched Berenger’s sunglasses off his face and put them on, sticking his tongue out. Berenger smiled in that fond way he had and Ancel leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Try not to die in a fiery wreck,” he said. “Not while you still owe me money.”

“I’ll do my best,” Berenger said, putting on his helmet.

Halvik returned with four women and introduced them in a whirlwind of names. Ancel shook their hands with a smile before Halvik was herding him away. 

“Come on lover boy, wouldn’t want to mess up your nice clothes with road dust.”

They went up into the empty stands where they had a good view of Berenger and the women choosing their bikes and mounting them. Berenger started up his engine with a low rumble while Ancel watched, oddly breathless.

Halvik brought her fingers up to her lips and let out an earsplitting whistle. The motorcycles took off with a roar of engines and a cloud of dust, winding their way around the track.

“Never thought he’d go for someone like you,” Halvik said thoughtfully.

Ancel laughed. “Someone like me?”

“Pretty,” Halvik said. “Clever. _ Clean.” _She reached out to flick Ancel’s emerald earring. “I’ve only ever seen him look twice at two men, and the first hardly counts. The second was a mechanic who could barely string two words together. Hot but stupid. That lasted all of a month and it only started at all because the mechanic cornered him and planted a wet one on him.”

Ancel laughed again. “Looks like the mechanic and I have something in common. Who was the first? The one that doesn’t count?”

“Auguste,” Halvik said, squinting down at the track. “Everyone has a thing for Auguste when they first meet him, it rarely lasts. Besides, he’s straight as an arrow. That’s his wife down there, on blue.” Halvik pointed and Ancel followed with his gaze. The woman on the blue bike was head-to-head with Berenger while the three other women were starting to fall behind. “My girl Kashel.”

“I bet Berenger’s going to win,” Ancel said.

“I’ll take that bet,” Halvik said with a glint in her eye. “A bottle of my best hakesh for your earring.”

“That hardly seems fair.”

“Take it or leave it, pretty boy.”

Ancel thought about it and then shrugged. He could always get Berenger to buy him another pair of earrings. “You’re on.”

They watched the race mostly in silence after that, Halvik explaining some of the finer points of motorcycle racing.

“I really couldn’t care less,” Ancel had to interrupt after a while. “I just like watching his ass in those pants.”

Halvik laughed uproariously and clapped him on the shoulder. She pulled out a pack of clove cigarettes and offered him one. Ancel took it and put it between his lips, leaning close to let her light it for him.

By the time he inhaled the first puff of spiced smoke into his lungs, the match was over with Berenger as the winner.

The five racers pulled off their helmets, talking and laughing together briefly before moving to join Halvik and Ancel in the stands.

Berenger was flushed and sweating, reeking of engine grease and gasoline and warm leather. It should have been disgusting. Ancel told himself it was disgusting.

“You won me a bottle of hakesh,” Ancel said as Berenger walked closer and pulled the cigarette from his fingers. He half expected to get a scolding, except Berenger simply took a deep drag. He looked practically euphoric as he exhaled the smoke, but maybe that was the rush of the race.

Ancel took back the cigarette and finished it, stubbing it out on the railing.

“You’re being a bad influence on him,” Berenger said to Halvik.

“He doesn’t need anyone to influence him,” Halvik said with a wink at Ancel. “Come have a drink.”

Berenger looked over at Ancel almost like he was asking permission, even though he clearly wanted to. Ancel had never seen him this relaxed before, surrounded by actual friends rather than coworkers or strained business acquaintances.

“Sounds good,” Ancel said, looking at Berenger. He stepped forward to slot against Berenger’s side, like he’d done when they’d first met. This time Berenger responded by wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Maybe we’ll try this famous hakesh,” Ancel said.

Berenger blushed and tried to cover with an awkward cough. Everyone else laughed.

“That’s the sort of thing you’ll want to save for… a private moment,” Kashel said.

_ Oh. _Well, that was intriguing.

Halvik led the way to a private viewing box in the stands, airy and lit by sunshine, well-appointed with low couches. Ancel helped her bring over the liquor and grabbed a beer before perching in Berenger’s lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady himself.

The smell of leather and oil was overwhelming this close, but the warmth of Berenger’s body made it well worth it. He’d unzipped his jacket again and the thin fabric of his shirt clung to the planes of his chest. He wrapped an arm around Ancel’s waist, smiling up at him easily, and Ancel leaned down to kiss him.

Kashel wolf-whistled at them. Someone else clapped. Ancel pulled back with a laugh to see Berenger looking at him fondly. He looked away, taking a sip of beer to hide his own flushed face.

One drink turned to several, and then they ordered dinner and ended up staying late into the night.

Seeing Berenger laugh so openly was a revelation. And they were in public- they were maintaining their ruse. So Ancel touched Berenger however he wanted, kissed him and pressed close to him, and Berenger reacted in kind.

Eventually it was time to go and Halvik pressed a stoneware jar into Ancel’s hands with a wink.

“Spoils of victory,” she said.

He thanked her and got a hug for it while Berenger said his goodbyes to the others.

“You’ll come to dinner, won’t you?” Kashel was asking when Ancel stepped up to Berenger’s side.

He felt tipsy so he leaned closer, steading himself by taking Berenger’s hand.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Berenger said awkwardly.

“It’ll be fun,” Kashel said. “Auguste would love to see you, and meet Ancel. We’re all so glad you found someone, you know. We all half-thought you’d be a bachelor forever.”

Ancel winced a little, hiding his face against Berenger’s shoulder. He felt oddly guilty. Maybe he should have been acting bitchier in front of Berenger’s friends, so they’d be relieved to see him go when this was finally over.

“He’ll never forgive you if you leave without at least saying hello,” Kashel said with an easy laugh.

“We’ll try,” Berenger said.

_ We. _

Ancel had never been part of a _ we _before.

Parsins was waiting for them outside and Ancel climbed into the back of the car a little clumsily, Berenger following him. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. Berenger didn’t seem to mind when Ancel leaned against him, dozing on his shoulder.

Some time later he became aware of something like floating- or maybe being carried. He was surrounded by the smell of leather and engine grease and he realized why when Berenger set him down on his bed and brushed the hair back from his forehead.

Ancel reached out and grabbed the lapel of Berenger’s jacket, leaning up to kiss him.

Berenger made a small sound of surprise but Ancel pressed closer, screwing his eyes shut as he deepened the kiss. For a moment it was perfect, but then Berenger pulled away.

“Stay,” Ancel whispered.

“I can’t,” Berenger said, so quietly he was almost whispering too.

“You can,” Ancel insisted.

“I shouldn’t,” Berenger said. “I really shouldn’t. Good night, Ancel.”

Ancel watched him go, his heart sinking. He could make men want him- why didn’t Berenger want him?

He laid down and threw his arm over his face, breathing slowly. He could figure it out. He _ would _figure it out- there was still time. He’d make Berenger want him, and then he’d ask Ancel to stay.

He wanted to stay.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

The next few days passed in a semblance of normalcy, and then Berenger cleared his throat awkwardly at breakfast and set his fork down.

“Kashel’s invited us to dinner tonight,” he said. “I can tell her no. I just- I’m not sure how you’d feel-”

“Are you ashamed of me?” Ancel asked, his heart sinking.

“No,” Berenger said, looking so shocked that Ancel could only believe him. “I could never be. It’s not that at all.”

“Oh,” Ancel said, feigning an air of nonchalance. “In that case- I’m quite curious to meet the famous Auguste. Halvik said you had a crush on him.”

“She said-” Berenger broke off with a sigh, rubbing his temples. “Well- that was. A long time ago. And hardly fair. Everyone has a crush on Auguste.”

“She said that too,” Ancel said. “Are you afraid I’ll fall in love with him and leave you?”

“Yes,” Berenger said with a wry smile and Ancel laughed.

“I’ll try to contain myself,” Ancel said. “But keep a gift or two on hand, to lure me back if it comes to it.”

“Or course,” Berenger said. “Tonight, then?”

“I’ll have to check my bustling social calendar.”

Berenger nudged his toe under the table and Ancel laughed again.

“Tonight,” he agreed.

* * *

Ancel spent nearly two hours trying to figure out what to wear until he was going mad with it.

“I have no idea who I’m supposed to be,” he said, barging into the living room where Berenger was reading on the couch.

“What?” Berenger asked.

“Am I your serious boyfriend? Am I a fling? How many jewels should I wear, or none? Help me.”

“Just be yourself,” Berenger said with a faint frown.

“That’s completely unhelpful, thank you,” Ancel muttered.

“I…” Berenger stared at him for a long moment. “I think- well. They have small children, so maybe not something you can’t get dirty?”

“What sort of- I- is that supposed to _ help?” _ Ancel threw his hands up and stomped off in a huff. He was almost entirely sure he heard Berenger laughing behind him.

He settled on a pair of simple gray slacks with some nice Italian leather boots, and a white silk shirt. He chose his jewelry with restraint, though he did select the nicest pieces. The emerald necklace from that first week, a pair of emerald studs, a few gold rings. He pulled his hair back into an elaborate braid and spritzed on a bit of subdued perfume, throwing a light peacoat over the outfit.

Through pure habit he picked out some more jewelry to stuff his pockets with, just in case. And his passport, not that he’d need it.

“You look good,” Berenger said when Ancel returned to the living room.

“Of course I do,” Ancel said, but blushed nonetheless.

Parsins drove them to a large house in the country, not quite a manor but close to it, surrounded by lush fields. They stopped in a circular drive and Ancel adjusted his hair nervously when they got out of the car. Berenger took his hand before leading the way to the front door and that made him feel better.

Kashel greeted them with a baby on her hip and a toddler clinging to her leg.

“Welcome!” she said with a bright smile. “This is our baby girl, Hennike,” she said, pointing to the baby. “And our man of the house- Nicaise.”

The toddler scowled and hid his face against her leg as she ushered Berenger and Ancel inside.

The house smelled of roasted garlic and butter, and Ancel could hear bubbling in the distance- something cooking. Berenger led the way through the house with confidence and they ended up in the kitchen.

There was a man with blond hair standing over the stove, stirring a steaming pot. He turned when they entered and smiled widely.

His smile revealed both rows of perfectly white even teeth. On another man, the expression would have looked terrifying. On him- it was delightful. He was model-handsome, maybe the most handsome man Ancel had ever seen.

“Berenger!” the man said, abandoning the pot and grabbing the cane that had been leaning against the stove. He made his careful way over as Berenger went to greet him, embracing him warmly.

“Auguste,” Berenger said.

Of course, the famous Auguste. Ancel could see why other people liked him. He was practically sunshine incarnate, radiating warmth and kindness, a sort of easy acceptance. 

Ancel preferred Berenger, reserved and awkward, sweet in a quiet private way that he didn’t share with anyone but the ones closest to him. Berenger’s affection felt earned while Auguste’s was freely given. Ancel found it difficult to trust something freely given. There were always strings.

Still, he smiled as he walked closer and stuck his hand out for a handshake.

“Ancel,” he introduced himself. “Berenger’s lover.”

“Kashel mentioned,” Auguste said, taking his hand in a firm shake. “Welcome to our humble home.”

“It’s hardly humble,” Ancel said, looking around. Their home was simple enough, but everything was state of the art and he could tell that the paintings hanging on the walls were expensive. “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you,” Auguste said. The pot behind him started bubbling faster and he cursed as he turned back to the stove.

“How’s the knee?” Berenger asked.

“I have good days and bad,” Auguste said easily. “Today’s a good day.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Berenger replied.

“Wine?” Kashel asked, joining them. At Berenger’s nod she filled four glasses with a rich red and they each took one, tapping their glasses together before drinking.

They chatted for a while about nothing much- the weather, politics, the race from before. Ancel gathered that Auguste used to race too, until his injury put him out of commission. It seemed like it had been serious but everyone skirted around it, so Ancel didn’t press further.

Auguste was taking the saucepan off the stove when the door opened again and another beautiful blonde walked in.

“Uncle Laurent!” Nicaise squealed in happiness, running towards him. The stranger, Laurent, bent to scoop him up and held him close to his chest as he walked over.

Berenger stiffened beside Ancel, causing a wave of unease to flow through him.

The family resemblance was obvious. Laurent was even more beautiful than Auguste, though where Auguste radiated warmth Laurent was as cool as an icy pond.

He dragged his clear blue eyes over the scene before him, walking closer until he was standing in front of the kitchen island.

“Laurent,” Berenger said, restrained and wary.

“Hello,” Ancel said, forcing his best smile as he held out his hand. “I’m-”

“I know who you are,” Laurent said coldly.

Ancel swallowed nervously, dread settling in his gut.

“Ancel, is it?”

“Yes,” Ancel said, letting his hand drop when it became clear Laurent had no intention of taking it.

“Brother,” Laurent said, not taking his eyes off Ancel before him. “I know you like to be _ welcoming _but you have children now. You should be careful about the sort of trash you invite into your home.”

“Laurent,” Auguste said sharply.

“Excuse me?” Ancel asked, hating the way his voice trembled.

“Berenger,” Laurent said with a nasty smile. “If I’d known you fucked whores, I could have recommended a reputable escort agency for you.”

_ “Laurent,” _Auguste hissed.

Ancel shivered. He felt sick. “Better to be a whore than a vicious little bitch that gets off on being rude to strangers.”

“Ancel,” Berenger said with disapproval.

Of course. Of course he’d side with Laurent. Ancel felt hot tears of shame rising to his eyes and fought to blink them back.

“I’m surprised you made it out of the country at all,” Laurent continued with a dismissive sniff. “Aren’t you wanted for arson? Or was it fraud? There are so many criminal charges I find it hard to keep track.”

Ancel set his glass down on the counter with a loud clink.

“Laurent,” Kashel said with disapproval.

“I’ll try not to set anything on fire on my way out,” Ancel said.

“Ancel,” Berenger said, reaching out to take his wrist.

“I don’t need to be where I’m not wanted,” Ancel bit out and yanked out of Berenger’s hold, making sure to slam into Laurent’s shoulder on his way out of the house.

He was furious and ashamed as he stormed out to the drive. He’d managed to lift Laurent’s car keys on the way out and he hit the button to unlock the doors, moving towards the champagne convertible parked in front of the house.

Ancel climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, his mind swirling with thoughts about the conversation that must have been going on inside. Laurent clearly knew about his past. It wasn’t that difficult to find for anyone that cared to look. He’d gotten lucky that Berenger hadn’t bothered, hadn’t found the truth.

And now the jig was up and it was all over.

Ancel put the car in drive and sped off into the night, not knowing where he was going except _ away. _

There were tears streaming down his face, blurring his vision. It was dark. 

Away, away, away- wasn’t he always running away? He’d used to run towards something, before. And now all he knew how to do was escape.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he drove but slowly he started to feel calmer, and then he just felt like an idiot. 

He’d stolen a car and driven out to the middle of nowhere in the French countryside. He didn’t even have a driver’s license. With his luck, he’d just get arrested again and that would be the perfect ending to this shithole night.

He pulled over onto the shoulder and shut down the engine, breathing hard. His hands were shaking, and that was just- stupid. He was so stupid.

He climbed out and sat down on the hard gravel with his back against the front tire, trying to breathe slowly as he wiped his tears away and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

He’d really been hoping-

He’d really thought that maybe Berenger-

But it was over now.

Berenger hadn’t wanted him before, and he definitely wouldn’t want him now. But that was alright. He could make his own path, figure something out. He always had.

Ancel sobbed and _ hated _himself for it, burying his face in his knees.

He’d be alright.

He had his passport, his jewelry. He had money in his bank account. He could- he could anything. He could do anything.

There was light in the distance and he looked up to see a lone set of headlights approaching- a motorcycle.

It was too late to keep driving. Instead he stayed on the ground, not moving as the motorcycle stopped beside him.

“You can’t have your money back,” he said bitterly as Berenger climbed off the bike and took off his helmet.

“Ancel-”

“No!” Ancel snarled. “You had your chance to look me up and you didn’t, so- that’s on you. You can’t have your money back, so don’t-”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Berenger said gently, sitting beside him. “Can I hold you?”

“He wasn’t lying, you know,” Ancel said, making a point of looking anywhere but at Berenger. “I really did- I am…”

Berenger wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

Ancel shivered and pressed his face against the warmth of Berenger’s chest. No matter what happened now, at least he’d have the memory of this moment.

“I’m sorry about Laurent,” Berenger said quietly. “If it helps- I think it was more a dig at me than you. He hates me.”

Ancel laughed at the ridiculous lie that Berenger had managed to scrape together. “Why would he-?”

“He blames me for Auguste’s accident,” Berenger said. “We raced together, so it was because of me. Because I got him into it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. But Laurent- Auguste is his whole world. So he’s… bitter.”

“He’s a vicious bitch,” Ancel muttered.

“That too,” Berenger said, stroking Ancel’s hair gently.

They sat together for a long time, listening to the soft sounds of the French countryside around them. There was a faint rumble of thunder in the distance.

“Please,” Berenger said. “Let me take you home?”

“Okay,” Ancel whispered, pulling away. “I should… return the car. Probably.”

“Probably,” Berenger said. “Or we can leave it here.”

Ancel managed a small laugh.

“It’s lojacked,” Berenger said, “he’ll find it just fine.”

“It’s going to rain.”

“Oh no,” Berenger said evenly.

Ancel laughed again, more real that time as he wiped the last of the tears off his face.

“All right,” he said.

Berenger stood and offered him a hand up. Ancel took it. And then he offered his motorcycle helmet and Ancel balked.

“No,” he said, staring at the motorcycle. “No, I’m not getting on that thing even if-”

“I paid you?” Berenger asked with a small smile. “I did have some gifts, but I’m afraid I left them back at Auguste’s. I promise, I’m pretty good at this. Do you trust me?”

What a stupid question. Ancel didn’t trust anyone.

Except he took a deep breath and took the helmet, putting it on before taking a seat behind Berenger on the bike.

He shivered when Berenger started the engine, the powerful vibrations thrumming through him and settling bone deep.

“Hold on,” Berenger said.

Ancel pressed closer and wrapped his arms around Berenger’s middle, and then he hit the throttle and they were off, speeding through the night.

It was terrifying. It was thrilling. It was so many things all at once that Ancel’s heart could hardly take it. 

Berenger had come for him. Berenger knew more of the truth than most, and still- he’d come for him.

It started raining before they made it home, the water pelting them as they sped through dark countryside roads. But it was warm, and beautiful in its own way. The slick road became a mirror and Ancel felt like he was flying through some sort of dream until they finally made it back and ran into the shelter of the manor.

“Let’s get dried off,” Berenger said, pushing him gently back towards his own room.

Ancel went, pulling off his wet clothes and putting his jewelry away before throwing on a thick terrycloth robe and walking back out into the main room.

Berenger was there too, wearing a robe of his own as he started a fire in the hearth.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Berenger asked.

“No,” Ancel said, sitting next to him on the rug before the fireplace.

“Alright,” Berenger said. He had two glasses and a bottle of wine with him. He filled the glasses and slid one over.

“You can’t be serious,” Ancel muttered. “You’re really not going to ask?”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Berenger said, looking into the fire.

“You’re an idiot,” Ancel said, taking a drink.

“So you’ve said,” Berenger said and reached out to set his hand on Ancel’s shoulder. Ancel moved closer despite himself, feeling raw as he leaned against Berenger’s side.

“I- I was a model,” he whispered.

“I know,” Berenger said. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I was a model,” he repeated firmly. Berenger fell silent. “I’d just clawed my way out of the kink scene. I found a photographer- a good one. He had contacts. I did a few shoots with him. He said he could get me into Vogue.”

Ancel sniffled, staring into the fire. He felt sick but kept going anyway, because Berenger deserved to know the truth.

“He-” Ancel shivered. “He said he’d give me whatever I wanted, if only I gave him what he wanted. He wanted me to suck his cock.”

_ “Ancel,” _Berenger whispered, scandalized.

Ancel laughed. Was it really so shocking? By now he was used to it.

“I was so stupid,” he continued. “I should have done it. I should have just- But I told him no. I told him- so many things. I thought I could do it all on my own. I was so… _ arrogant.” _

“Ancel,” Berenger said. “Ancel- you shouldn’t have to-”

“Shut up,” Ancel hissed, closing his eyes. “You don’t know how it was. How it- And I-”

He took a deep breath before he could continue.

“He was… angry. He said things, about me. Spread rumors. He ruined me. I should have just- but instead he ruined me. So I got angry too. I broke into his studio. I’d only meant to- but I found. Tapes.

“There were tapes, from hidden cameras in the change room, the bathroom. Tapes of _ me _ and- and- others. Some of them- _ young.” _

Ancel stared into the fire, remembering the sickening feeling of opening a cabinet and just- seeing them all arranged before him so neatly. Names and dates, ages. The cabinet hadn’t even been locked, that’s how arrogant the photographer had been, so sure that nothing bad would ever happen to him.

“I should have gone to the police, turned him in. But I was so- freaked out. I was stupid. I burned them. I only meant to burn the tapes, but it got out of control and the fire took out the whole studio instead.

“He knew it was me, obviously. He had me arrested. There was a trial- everything. They couldn’t prove it though, so they let me go. By then I’d used up the last of my savings for bail, for the rest of it. I had nothing. No one would hire me.”

Ancel gritted his teeth. The whole mess had happened five years ago but talking about it made it feel close again. “That fucker landed on his feet and I landed in someone’s bed. Because I had nowhere else to go. No one wanted me for anything other than- _ that.” _

Ancel laughed bitterly. “So yeah. I probably should have just sucked his cock and saved myself the trouble. It probably would have been better than all the other things I’ve had to do since then.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” Berenger said carefully. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“What do you know,” Ancel scoffed. “You have no idea what I deserve. I was an asshole before then, too. I did bad things. I- stole, and-”

“That’s in the past.”

“Is it?” Ancel asked, looking at him incredulously. “I stole your wallet the first time we met. I _ stole _from you. And I should have told you about my past, or considered how bad it would look for you to be associated with me. But I didn’t care. All I cared about was the money.”

“It’s hard to care about anything else when you don’t have any.”

“What is _ wrong _with you?” Ancel demanded. “It’s like nothing I say makes you angry.”

Berenger smiled a little, looking off into the fire. “That’s not true. What you said about that photographer makes me pretty angry. I’m going to find him. And I’m going to destroy his life.”

Ancel shivered, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He watched the way the light of the flames played over Berenger’s face. He was serious about what he’d said.

“Ancel,” Berenger said softly. “I’m sorry. I should have done this ages ago.”

“Done what?”

Berenger reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a check. Ancel took it slowly. It was the other half of the money they’d agreed on.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Ancel asked.

“No,” Berenger said. “No, I- I don’t want to get rid of you. But I don’t want to be like the rest of them. I don’t want you to feel- trapped here, with me. I want you to stay, but only if you want to. You’re not a thing to be bought and sold.”

“That’s stupid,” Ancel said, staring down at the piece of paper in his hands. How funny, that a piece of paper could mean so much.

Suddenly he hated it, how much weight it had. It was just a piece of paper, it couldn’t define his worth.

He balled it up furiously and threw it into the fire.

_ “Ancel,” _ Berenger said in shock.

Ancel laughed.

“Ancel-”

“I’m making a point,” he said, still grinning.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t,” Ancel said, nudging Berenger in the side. “I really fleeced you, back at the cafe.”

“Did you,” Berenger said with a smile.

“I don’t want to leave. I want to go to Greece.”

“And after?”

“I don’t know,” Ancel said with a small shrug. “I guess I’ll figure it out after.”

His stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the moment.

“We never got to have dinner,” he moaned, remembering the delicious smell of Auguste’s kitchen, the sauce he never got to taste.

“Let’s see if we can scrounge something up,” Berenger said, rising and leading the way into the kitchen.

There wasn’t much in the way of food, but they had bread and cheese and wine. It was surprisingly easy to return to something like normalcy, to drink and talk and laugh as the rain raged outside.

“I miss Paris,” Ancel said, when it was finally time to go to bed.

“Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of opportunities to go shopping in Athens,” Berenger said with an indulgent smile.

Ancel bit his lip, afraid to say what he really meant. But even though he was a thief, a liar, and a whore- he’d never been a coward.

“I miss the bed in Paris,” he said, lifting his chin defiantly. “It was- warm.”

“Oh,” Berenger said. He didn’t pull away when Ancel took his hand and led the way to Berenger’s bedroom.

He’d been here before, of course. He came in every morning for Berenger’s shave. It was the first time he’d been in the bed though.

Suddenly he was aware of being naked under his robe, but he pushed the thought away. He untied the belt and let it drop to the ground before climbing under the covers. Berenger took off his robe too, though he was wearing a pair of dark blue boxer briefs underneath.

Ancel tried not to feel too disappointed.

Berenger laid down, leaving as much distance between them as possible, and turned off the light. It was still raining outside. It sounded louder once it was dark. Ancel turned on his side, facing away from Berenger.

“You said you wanted to hold me, earlier,” Ancel said quietly. “So hold me.”

For a long time there was silence, then the rustling of sheets.

“Is that what you want, too?” Berenger murmured.

Ancel nodded, suddenly too afraid to speak.

He sighed with relief when Berenger wrapped an arm around his waist and slotted up behind him, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck. He didn’t do anything else, just stayed there- a warm and steady presence.

“Good night, Ancel,” he whispered.

“Good night,” Ancel said, and smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out chapter 2 for an amazing illustration by Skaiahart of Berenger's google search result!!! <3 <3 <3

* * *

The morning was cool and gray, dreary. It was still raining outside, though it had slowed to a faint drizzle. Ancel felt cozy and warm. Berenger was still wrapped around him, his breathing slow and even. And-

Ancel bit his lip, his breath coming a little faster as he felt it. Berenger was hard against his ass. Even through the thin fabric of his underwear Ancel could feel the heat of him, how big he was. He couldn’t help imagining Berenger touching him, moving inside him.

Maybe he’d say the sorts of things that were written in his cheesy romance novels, or maybe he’d be stoic even as his body gave away his desire. Would he kiss differently in private, during sex, than he did when they kissed for show?

Ancel closed his eyes as he imagined it. He was hard now, too. But he couldn’t do anything about it without risking waking Berenger. And if Berenger woke, he might leave and then Ancel would lose even this small moment.

He had no idea what to do, and then Berenger woke anyway.

Ancel felt him tense and shift as if to roll away.

_ “Don’t,” _ Ancel breathed out, reaching back to grab Berenger’s hip, keeping them pressed together.

Berenger froze, his arm tightening uncertainly around Ancel’s waist. Ancel’s breath hitched at that, at the coiled strength contained within Berenger’s lean body. He rolled his hips back, pressing his ass harder against Berenger’s cock, and Berenger’s breath hitched too.

Ancel tightened his fingers over Berenger’s hip, urging him closer.

“Ancel,” Berenger said, his voice sleep-rough and uncertain.

“Please,” Ancel whispered, rolling his hips again, trying to get more.

Berenger made a small sound of desire and pressed his face against the back of Ancel’s neck. His morning stubble felt rough and oddly delicious- this was him raw and unpolished. His mouth was open, his breathing harsh. Ancel could feel him panting, rhythmic hot puffs of air blowing across his skin.

“I want this,” Ancel managed. “I want you. Please.”

For a long moment they were trapped in tense stillness. It stretched on and on, a stalemate of tangled limbs and clutching hands and painful uncertainty, and then Berenger made a noise deep in his throat almost like a growl, and pressed closer.

Ancel gasped when Berenger’s hold around his middle tightened and he pushed Ancel to lie more on his belly than his side, covering him with his body and pressing him into the sheets. His skin was already growing slick with sweat, hot where Berenger’s bare chest was pressed to Ancel’s back.

It shouldn’t have been surprising that Berenger was smooth and steady as he ground his clothed cock against Ancel’s ass, mouthing at the side of his neck like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of Ancel’s skin. The hand that he had around Ancel’s waist slid down until his palm was pressed to the underside of Ancel’s cock, giving him something firm to rub against.

Ancel bit back a cry, afraid to ruin the moment with any sound louder than rustling sheets and laboured breathing.

It was good, it was more than he’d dared hope for. Skin against skin, bodies rubbing together. It was good, but not nearly good enough.

Ancel was greedy, and he always wanted more.

He was close enough to the nightstand that he could reach the drawer so he pulled it open, fumbling until he found a condom and lube.

“Here,” he said, shoving the items into Berenger’s free hand, extended over the pillow just above Ancel’s head.

“We can take it slow,” Berenger said, pressing a kiss behind Ancel’s ear. “We can-”

“I don’t _ want _ to,” Ancel said, screwing his eyes shut. “I want all of you. Now. I want- _ Please."_

“Alright,” Berenger said, the word coming out in a rush. Ancel could hardly believe it. “Alright, but I need- I want to look at you.”

He pulled away and Ancel obediently turned to lie on his back, flushed and breathing hard, full of desire and on a strange level- embarrassment.

He felt exposed as Berenger propped himself up on his elbow, stroking the side of Ancel’s face as he examined his expression. Ancel didn’t know what Berenger was looking for but he forced himself to look back anyway, his breath coming quick through parted lips. He was so hard. He just wanted Berenger to get on with it.

He was tired of tests and walls and Berenger’s odd sense of honor. He needed a good fuck and he needed it _ now. _

Berenger was taking too long.

“I’ll do it myself,” Ancel grumbled, reaching for the lube.

“No,” Berenger said with a laugh, pulling it away. “I want to.”

The laugh shattered some of the tension and Ancel laughed too, pushing Berenger’s face away when he leaned in for a kiss.

“Morning breath!” he cried out, trying to force disgust into his words.

“I could go brush my teeth?” Berenger teased.

“It’s not that bad,” Ancel said quickly, wrapping his arms around Berenger’s neck and dragging him down. He kissed just the same as he always had, when they’d been pretending. 

Ancel didn’t kiss the same at all. He let himself relax and not think so hard about what looked good, focusing instead on what felt good. He let himself be selfish in this the way he was selfish in everything else- taking and taking until he was satisfied.

Berenger moaned in surprise when Ancel bit his lip playfully. He’d never done that before.

Distantly he was aware of slick sounds as Berenger poured lube over his fingers, so he spread his legs in invitation, planting his feet on the bed to make it easier. He thought he was ready, but nothing could have prepared him for the first touch of cool slick fingers against his entrance, rubbing slowly.

Overwhelmed already, Ancel let his head fall back against the pillows, let his thighs fall open wider. He was so hard it ached and he just wanted _ anything, _ but Berenger was infuriatingly slow as he massaged just _ there _for what felt like ages before finally pushing a finger inside.

Ancel cried out at the sensation of being breached. He knew how to do this, he’d done it so many times. But it had been so long ago and it felt different now. He was keenly aware of the fact that it was _ Berenger _with him, the two of them together.

Berenger worked him open, smooth and steady like Ancel knew he would be. He added a second finger and Ancel keened at the feeling of being so full, throwing his head back to bare his throat. Berenger was there, of course he was, kissing Ancel’s neck and rubbing his stubble-rough cheek against his skin, a delicious tease.

He thought of Berenger’s romance novel, of the thief saying _ I’ve never felt this way about anyone before _and laughed. It made his muscles tighten around Berenger’s fingers inside him and the laugh turned to a moan.

Berenger changed the angle, crooking his fingers just so. He had Ancel moaning again at the way heat pooled in his cock, his balls, inside him. He didn’t stop, pushing into him relentlessly and rubbing his prostate on each stroke. It felt good- so good that it was nearly too much.

“You’re going to make me come,” Ancel managed in protest.

“Don’t you want to?” Berenger murmured into his ear. “I want to see it. I want to see you let go.”

“Not yet,” Ancel whispered. “Not yet, please-”

Berenger pulled out and Ancel shivered at the loss of him, gulping in great lungfuls of air as he tried desperately to center himself.

“Condom,” Ancel demanded and waited while Berenger ripped it open and rolled it on, still shamefully composed even though Ancel was on the verge of falling apart.

Berenger moved to slick his cock and Ancel finally got himself together enough to sit up and straddle him, pushing him down into the mattress while he used his other hand to guide Berenger’s cock inside him.

His breath caught as he sank down on it, hard and hot, the perfect stretch. He knew how to do this, how to relax and open for it. But the way Berenger’s eyes fluttered closed made him forget himself and he gasped, impaled and vulnerable in a way that felt safe rather than dangerous.

“Oh god,” Berenger breathed out, taking him by the hips. _ “Ancel. _You feel-”

“Shut up,” Ancel said, too raw to handle praise at the moment. “Shut up, shut up, just-”

They both cried out when he started to move, bracing himself on Berenger’s chest as he rode his cock.

He could barely believe it even as it was happening. It was too close, too good- he could have said _ it’s never been like this before _and have it not be a lie. He sped up. He was too close to the edge now for finesse. He wanted to make this just as good for Berenger as it was for himself, wanted this to be unforgettable.

“Touch me,” he demanded, not slowing down.

Berenger planted his feet on the bed so he could thrust up into him and raised his hand to stroke Ancel’s cock.

Ancel cried out, frozen and needy even as Berenger gave him everything he’d been wanting for so long now.

“I’m close,” he managed. “I- I-”

Berenger pushed up, thrusting in to him just right, his hand never wavering over his cock to push him over the edge. Ancel cried out and folded like a house of cards, gasping to try and catch his breath as he came all over Berenger’s stomach, hiding his face against Berenger’s neck and inhaling the warm musky smell of him, so familiar by now. 

Berenger took him by the back of the neck, holding him closer. His grip was tight, almost painful. Ancel relaxed into it, into all of it. It was too much and already he wanted to do it all again.

_ “Fuck,” _Berenger breathed out, his voice trembling and raw. It was the first time Ancel had ever heard him curse and he laughed a little even as Berenger kept fucking up into him.

It only took a few more moments, a few thrusts. Berenger groaned, loud and unrestrained for once, his grip tightening on the back of Ancel’s neck as he stilled, his chest heaving.

They caught their breath for a few moments and then Ancel rolled off him, falling to the sheets with a groan.

Berenger held him close, keeping his lips pressed to Ancel’s forehead so every breath brushed over his skin, his hair.

It was the best fuck he’d had since- maybe since ever.

“Are you alright?” Berenger asked softly. There was a trembling uncertainty in his voice and Ancel wanted to burn it away.

“Your breath smells like death,” he retorted. “And I need to take a piss.”

Berenger glared at him in the way he had and Ancel burst out into hiccuping laughter, his heart so full of joy he couldn’t contain it anymore.

“Ancel,” Berenger grumbled in familiar disapproval.

Ancel kissed him, ignoring the morning breath, the mess they’d made, everything.

“I’m amazing,” Ancel said with a smile. “I thought- I really thought you didn’t want me. You nearly gave me a complex, you bastard.”

“I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you,” Berenger said seriously.

“When I rescued you?” Ancel teased.

“That was when you first saw me,” Berenger said with a wry smile. “I saw you long before then. As soon as you walked into the room.”

“Oh,” Ancel said, flushing at the thought. It was ridiculous. Everything about Berenger was ridiculous- romantic and too earnest. Ancel didn’t know how to deal with it, never had.

“I’m going to take a piss,” he said, because if there was anything he was good at, it was ending an awkward moment. “And a shower. And you will too. And then we’ll have breakfast and do all this again.”

Berenger smiled softly as he brushed the hair back from Ancel’s face.

“Yes,” he said.

* * *

They went to Athens, Greece.

It was strange to be Berenger’s arm candy now that it wasn’t really a ruse anymore. For the most part it was the same, except on their way home from the meetings and parties they closed the partition in the car so they could make out without Parsins glaring at them in disapproval.

They did other things, too.

Berenger took the weekend off and they sampled Halvik’s hakesh only to end up fucking for seven hours straight. Even with Berenger’s tentative admittal that he enjoyed being on the receiving end of things every once in a while, they both ended up sore and laid up in bed the rest of the next day.

They talked of the future in roundabout terms, of their dreams and hopes. They made plans, carefully and delicately, like weaving spiderwebs that might be burned out by the noonday sun.

It was as beautiful as it was terrifying, and Ancel had never felt so happy and free.

The last stop on Berenger’s business trip was a southern coastal town, a seaside villa and the last meeting of their two months abroad together.

Ancel tried not to feel too nervous and bereft as Berenger knocked on the front door. No matter what happened between them afterwards- it would never feel quite like this.

A large man opened the door and held out his hand for Berenger to shake. The man was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes glassy as though he was drunk.

“Berenger!” he said.

“Makedon,” Berenger greeted him. “This is my lover, Ancel.”

Ancel shook his hand while Makedon squinted at him thoughtfully.

“Come in,” he said. “Come in, come in. But I’m afraid there’s been a minor change of plans.”

“Oh?” Berenger asked.

Makedon led the way into the living room, where there were two men sitting on one of the low sofas.

One was rubbing the other’s back while looking disgruntled. The other had his face in his hands and was clearly muttering- _ something. _

“Berenger, Ancel,” Makedon said, waving his hand. “Meet Nikandros and Damianos.”

The disgruntled man, Nikandros apparently, looked up with a scowl. The other didn’t bother.

“We can come back another time,” Berenger said diplomatically.

“No need, no need,” Makedon said. “There’s griva enough for all of us.”

Everyone’s expressions soured further.

“Is that like hakesh?” Ancel asked eagerly.

Makedon laughed. Damianos looked up with a wan smile and ran his hands through his hair. He was very handsome.

“It’s like jet fuel,” Nikandros said with a grimace.

“I have the papers in my office,” Makedon said. “It’ll just take a moment.”

Berenger set his hand low on Ancel’s back and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Will you be alright here on your own for a little while?”

“Go,” Ancel said with a smile.

Once Berenger and Makedon left he threw himself down on a sofa in an elegant sprawl, regarding Nikandros and Damianos before him with interest.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“Jocaste,” Damianos said sadly.

“Oh my god, Damen,” Nikandros groaned. “It’s been five months!”

“How long does it take to get over your girlfriend fucking your brother?” Damianos said in response. “Maybe I’ll never be over it.”

Nikandros rolled his eyes. “Maybe if you didn’t have such a taste for vicious blondes we never would have been in this mess to begin with!”

Ancel laughed. “Vicious blondes?”

“She wasn’t- _ vicious,” _Damianos said bitterly.

“There’s only so long I can put up with your carrying on,” Nikandros said, shoving him in the shoulder. “Get your dick wet already, move on with your life.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” Ancel said confidently.

“What thing?” Nikandros asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Ancel waved him away as he pulled out his phone and video chatted Laurent.

The call rang for a long time before it was answered and Laurent’s furious face filled the screen.

_ “Whore,” _he said.

“Bitch,” Ancel said with a pleasant smile.

_ “How did you get this number?” _

“From dear Auguste, of course,” Ancel lied, smirking now. He’d stolen it from Berenger’s phone a few weeks back while he’d been asleep.

_ “So this explains the phone calls I’ve been getting from various strangers at all hours.” _

“How unfortunate,” Ancel said, widening his eyes innocently as though he hadn’t scrawled Laurent’s phone number in a few choice bathroom stalls. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that. I’m actually calling because it seems I have something of yours.”

_ “You’d better still have my car keys. The keychain- it was a gift from my mother.” _

“Of course I still have them,” Ancel said. “But I’m afraid I’m leaving the country soon. I’ll have to leave them with Damianos. I’m sure he’ll be glad to return them- you should work it out with him.”

He tossed the phone to the dumbstruck man sitting across from him, who fumbled and nearly dropped it.

“Hello?” he asked, blushing as he looked at Laurent through the screen.

_ “Who the fuck are you?” _ Ancel heard Laurent asking. _ “Do you have my keys?” _

Damianos looked up, his gaze searching and desperate. Ancel dug Laurent’s car keys out of his pocket, complete with the apparently precious key chain, and tossed those over too.

“Yes,” Damianos said, holding them up where the camera could see. He stood from the couch, still blushing.

_ “Are you friends with that- that-” _

Ancel shook his head no, vigorously.

Damianos grinned, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. If Laurent didn’t find it endearing, he was made of stone.

“No,” Damianos said. “No, definitely not. My name is Damen. You are-?”

He walked away so he could continue the conversation in private and Nikandros groaned, sinking deeper into his seat. “What have you _ done?” _

Ancel shrugged. “God’s work?”

“You’ve ruined me,” Nikandros said. “I can tell already. You’re a demon, sent to destroy my peace of mind.”

“Rude,” Ancel said with a laugh.

“What is?” Berenger asked, walking back into the room with Makedon at his side.

“Your boyfriend,” Nikandros said. “He’s a monster.”

“Lover,” Ancel corrected, more from habit than anything else. Now that he thought about it, _ boyfriend _ really didn’t sound so bad.

Berenger sat beside him on the sofa and Makedon brought out a bottle of griva and five glasses.

“I doubt Damianos will be rejoining us any time soon,” Ancel said.

“And why is that?” Berenger asked, running his fingers through Ancel’s hair while Ancel leaned into his touch.

“He’s busy talking to Laurent.”

Berenger winced. “I… see.”

“It’ll be good for him,” Ancel said haughtily. “He’d be much less of a prissy little bitch if he got laid once in a while.”

Berenger laughed wryly. “Auguste is going to kill me.”

“Or kiss you,” Ancel said, leaning against his side. “I’ll have to fight him off to keep my claim on you.”

“Will you,” Berenger asked, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“It’ll be easy,” Ancel said flippantly. “I’ll just have to kick his cane away.”

“Griva!” Makedon said with a laugh, handing each of them a small glass full of foul smelling liquor.

“Bottoms up,” Ancel said, and took a drink.

  
  


_ fin. _

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [barbitone](http://barbitone.tumblr.com/) and pillowfort also at [barbitone](https://www.pillowfort.io/barbitone)


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